


As You Wish

by AroaceGenderfluidSheep



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Baz has PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Simon Snow Loves Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, SnowBaz, Spoilers for Book 2: Wayward Son, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Needs a Hug, also a mild touch aversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29205654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AroaceGenderfluidSheep/pseuds/AroaceGenderfluidSheep
Summary: Harassment or assault is inevitably going to leave some kind of scar on the victim. There is no universe where Baz Pitch would have been fine after the events of America. Baz has a nightmare from one of the times the gang got into trouble, the incident that happened at Carhenge.TW: nightmares, alluded to assault, touch aversion, and PTSD.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 10
Kudos: 52





	As You Wish

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: I didn’t expect this to gain as much attention as it did, so thank you. Baz’s trauma is something most of the fandom seems to gloss over, and even the ones who talk about it seem to forget about this incident in particular.
> 
> I’ve been through a similar experience, and the thing is, this incident is going to leave a lasting scar on Baz. Assault isn’t fun, nor is it easy, and physical abuse means a touch aversion is almost inevitable. Baz deserves to have his story and trauma heard and acknowledged.

**Baz**

I’m back in America, watching Simon go off on the posse, feeling the goat’s hands on me, remembering how helpless I felt. I can’t breathe.

_“Baz!”_

“Get off me!”

_“Baz!”_

“Get off!”

“Baz!”

I come to, rocketing upright in a bed. There’s a hand on my shoulder.

“Baz, are you okay?”

In the back of my mind, I recognize his voice, but I can’t put a name to it. I strike the hand from my shoulder, moving so I have the owner of the voice pinned to the bed by his shoulders. It takes me half the time to do it than if I was human.

“Baz,” the voice whispers. “You’re safe.”

My head and vision clear, leaving me to see Simon Snow gazing up at me. He repeats my name, and I break.

“Simon,” I choke out. I collapse onto him, pushing my face into his chest. His arms hesitantly come up around me, settling around my lower back. I shake my head, and he drops them back to the bed.

“No,” I murmur. “I need you to hold me. Just...” I look up into his face. “Nothing below the waist?”

Simon nods, a spasm of anger flashing across his face before disappearing into something soft. “Of course.”

I feel his hands settle between my shoulders this time, and I curl my body around him as he wraps his wings around us. He reaches to the side for a moment to pull the blankets up higher.

I can’t speak, I can’t move. I can’t breathe.

I _can_ move. I just don’t want to right now. I feel so heavy.

I _can_ breathe. I breathe easier with Simon next to me.

Simon’s breaths are slow, and I try to match mine to his, fisting my hand up in his hair. The material of his shirt is cool against my cheek.

He’s unusually still for having woken me up from a nightmare. Any other time, Simon would massage my scalp, rub my shoulders, curl his tail around me... I know why he’s not.

I try not to think about it, pushing my face further into his chest.

I must fall back asleep at some point because the next time I open my eyes, the sun is peeking through the closed curtains. All the lights in the room are off. There’s lukewarm tea on the bedside table (I smell it), and I hear Simon making something in the kitchen.

Sitting up, I grab the mug of tea and sit back into the pillows. _**“Some like it hot!”**_

It burns going down, but the scalding tea helps clear my mind. Simon’s footsteps come closer to the bedroom, and he tentatively knocks on the door.

“Baz?” he calls out before turning the knob. His eyes find me, and he sits on the edge of his bed, closing the door behind him. “How are you feeling, darling?”

I don’t speak. Simply reach out a hand to Simon, pulling him to me and resting my head in the crook of his neck.

“I don’t want to do anything today.” I’m exhausted. “Can we go curl up and watch movies?”

Simon nods, curls brushing my exposed neck and tickling my skin. “Did you have anything in mind?”

Lifting my head, I reply, _“The Princess Bride?”_

Simon leans forward as if to kiss me, but he stops himself. “I’m sorry. I should have asked you first.”

“You’re not the one at fault.”

“It’s not your fault either, Baz. Something like harassment never is.”

Simon was used and abused by his father for years.

“It’s not my fault,” I whisper, letting the words hang in the air. “It’s— It's not my fault.” Nodding, I nestle deeper into Simon’s arms, peering up at him. “Can we watch that movie now?"

Tugging me closer, Simon gently rests a hand on my upper arm. “As you wish.”

**Author's Note:**

> I actually got the idea for this work from a personal experience of mine. I went through being abused, but have PTSD and still have trouble sometimes. Writing this was a way of coping. Assault is a serious issue that can affect you and everyone around you, so please speak up if you ever find yourself in a similar situation.
> 
> Here are [hotlines](https://www.hotpeachpages.net/a/countries.html) you can call for any country you're in.


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